Having to write a short story for English Language as part of my Year 2 AS Coursework. Genre is a fairly general 'Horror' one. Initially a short story, planning to expand it etc. just to see how it turns out, something for University too hopefully. So basically. Didn't want it to be quite a normal zombie story, so it's from the point of view of the prime minister of England, and it's got as much focus on mob mentality in Britain during panicky times as it does to do with zombies. I need non-cliche theories as to how zombies could come into the world, the whole virus thing is fine but it needs a more, reliable origin. So far, as I've written it in, it's essentially a virus (That bit's cliche) employed by a foreign government, IE ; a biological terrorist attack. It's probaly been done somewhere but at least it's not the most common one. But. Yeah. Any ideas appreciated.
I want to read it when you're done. <3<3 Zombie stories. As far as ideas I'm not sure. A genetically enhanced disease released by the government as population control?
Rightio. If I like how it goes, might well post it, if I'm doing it properly it's going to be a good couple of hundred pages so won't be finished for ages. =p. Like the population control idea though, except that the main character being the Prime Minister I wanted to make him sort of, good. Could always do it behind his back though. :>
Maybe you could plan it beginning in a foreign country British forces or something to link it for something to do with the Prime Minister, where they go exploring deep into some place that's pretty undiscovered, 1 of the guys/girls has some form of illness they're already infected with and when he goes into the place some new form of creature bites them, the venom from the bite mutates with the illness he already has which is highly infectious and etc. The team gets rushed back to England, then you can kinda have the Prime minister having to cover up what the forces were doing in that undiscovered place in the country in the first place, and couple it with the mob mentality of wanting to know the truth of how the virus has been formed. I dunno, I'm no good with stories, but it's something different?
Kind of works, but sort of opposite angle to what I'm edging towards. Prime Minister is the protagonist, needs to sort of, find empathy with the readers as opposed to being a normal politician. The mob mentality won't be having a good cause behind them such as "wanting to know the truth". Want to emphasise how Britain really takes a turn for the worse in mob mentality, how people essentially become animals. (Thus striking the comparison with the zombies). Original idea is useable though.
Aye, I wish I was better at writing fictional things, I'm not creative in that area though, good luck with it though.
Maybe for something different, it could be caused by radiation from cell phones, microwaves and the like. Everyday appliances. Everyone is always saying these things are hazardous so why not make them as such?
Targeted radiation causes cellular mutation, leading to zombies? I like that . It does kinda sound like Fallout 3 though, so it would have to be presented in a more specific manner... I also like the conspiracy idea. I think a conspiracy would make it far more interesting. Everybody loves conspiracies, and you can hold off details to confuse the reader pretty easily . Population control seems a little weak, that's the problem. I could imagine it being a military experiment gone wrong, but the obvious answer to population control is forced abortions and restrictions on # of children (see China, although I don't think they used forced abortions ever) and the like. Let the population slowly die out that way. Lemme put my thinking cap on and sit here for several minutes. Okay, population control would work with the conspiracy if it's two different countries. Like America going psycho and deciding there's too many Arabs, so we use a supposedly tried and true engineered virus to wipe out entire cities. You can see where that's going. With some creativity, you can make it work and keep your protagonist as the protagonist. That's all I've got in a several minutes :|. I think work pooped my brain out. And I'm upset that I Am Legend is killing all of my ideas! Darn you, Hollywood! They were supposed to be vampires, not zombies!
Well Fallout 3 got me thinking along the lines of nuclear...but they aren't exactly zombies and mine isn't from bombs and crap...it's from normal, everyday items...so pretty much the only thing related to F3 is radiation, lol.
Booh, zombies eh? How about mad scientists commanded by the mad prime minister to mix different species DNA together with human DNA in order to make some "superhumans" that doesn't and wouldn't have any decease/sickness etc, anything of the kind, in short immortality for rich people, then the experiment failed and caused the formation of zombies. Orrr, how about something like, a "secret" resurrection facility, where mad doctors operate these rich, powerful people and put their "brains" into another well functioning body in order to live longer, and machine malfunctions, or like, chemicals mixed w/ different chemicals unintentionally that caused the empty human bodies to have life and become zombies? ;o Bleah. It popped outta my mind, anyway, post your story when you're done. I wanna see it.
Yeah, that idea works if it's presented properly. I can see a lot of people screwing it up though. I think I lost faith in contemporary literature because I blasted my mind with too much fan fiction crap in high school (I was even picky about the quality I read, but it's still fan fiction, and fan fiction is inherently horrible) Every time I think about zombies and Fallout 3 I start hearing Three Dog's voice saying "Hellooo Chiiiildren!" Anyways, on topic: I do like the idea of using radiation. Just don't incorporate nuclear weapons and it should work out
I'ma post the sort of introductionary paragraphs in a minute, just writing up a plan so I know where to go with it. Going with either ; a) Population control, virus released meant to target the elderly and kill them peacefully but the virus mutates, turns people into zombies. B) terrorist attack with the same idea, virus, but virus that's -meant- to turn them into zombies. c) new developments in stem cell research that are meant to defeat cancer, given to thousands of patients, who then mutate.
Mainly introducing the main character, and w/e the black sphere thing is, since it was initially the terrorist attack idea. I don't pretend to be a good writer by the way, but, hopefully I'll get some practice in during this. Instead of chapters, it's going to be labelled as -Day 1- and so on, in order to sort of, allow as the days pass for the condition to get worse and worse. Edit : Never watched I Am Legend so I wouldn't know, but, I'll avoid it then in case. The small black sphere rolled gently down the street, its gleaming surface illuminated by the nearby street lights. It came to a sudden stop, trapped between two cracked slabs. The face of the sphere lit up, a small red digit display reading ‘4:00’ glowing alone amongst the strange black metal, and slowly, the number began to tick down. An elderly man stepped past it, his hands tucked away in his pocket to stave off the cold winter air; he felt his foot brush past the black sphere and glanced down at it. He stared at it for a moment, sweeping his gloved hands through the few remaining strands of silver hair standing defiantly on his head. ‘3:00’ This was none of his business, the man was nearing seventy and had no desire to waste anymore of his time in the blistering cold weather. He shrugged, lightly kicking the sphere down the cobbled road as he continued on his way home, slipping his hands back into his jacket pocket. ‘2:00’ The man never noticed the timer on the sphere, and no one ever would. It was 12:02 AM on a November morning and this small back road in London was devoid of life, silence smothered the street, even the noise of London’s ever-blaring, road raging traffic seemed strangely devoid. The silence seemed to please the sphere as it’s timer let out a small tick, the digits flicking over to ‘1:00’. The Prime Minister woke abruptly, the incessant ringing of his alarm splitting the silence of Number 10. He smashed his hand across the bedside cabinet, fingers flailing about in search of a ‘snooze’ button. “For the love of god” he muttered, leaning up in the bed and clicking the alarm off, frustrated and confused as to why it had gone off. He sat for a moment, fingers pressed gingerly against his temples as he tried to adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. Michael King had been elected as Prime Minister only a month ago, and he was quite sure he wasn’t ready for the monumental task it had proven to be. The constant meetings, speeches and UN visits had speckled his once coal black hair with intruding spots of grey, the lines on his forehead had deepened and he wasn’t as quick on his feet as he had once been. Being Prime Minister ages you. Still, he was only forty and had plenty of life left in him yet, and more importantly, he loved his country. He suspected that is the reason he was elected, not only keeping Labour in power but managing to revitalise the country’s sense of national pride and dignity. England seemed better, friendlier, and peaceful. Even the supposedly ‘constant’ threat of terrorism had dwindled down to nothing but a murmur among the conservative newspapers. As Michael considered all of this, he couldn’t help but smile. He turned himself on the luxury mattress and slid his feet into his slippers, quietly lifting himself out of bed and shuffled towards the doorway, nightgown wrapped tightly around him. The long corridor’s of Number 10 lay sprawled out in front of him, welcoming in the light of day, but when cloaked in darkness they were a slightly unnerving prospect; Michael had never liked Number 10, only living there because it was required off him, he found its luxury decoration to be distasteful and uncomforting. He had considered redecorating, unfortunately it was forbidden. The Prime Minister stepped into a nearby room and collapsed into the closest couch he could find, arms and legs draped casually over the arms as he flicked on a nearby lamp. Warm yellow light illuminated the room, his favourite room; small, cosy, and fitted with a sizeable television. He grinned as he studied it, its vast sleek face looming over him, he was about to reach for the remote when he spotted a stack of folders next to the lamp. “Guess there are some things I can’t escape from” he said through gritted teeth, grabbing the folders and placing them on his lap, flipping over the first one. Education, Health, Credit Crunch, something about the Euro and a stack of others, nothing that particularly sparked his interest he thought as he dropped them on to the floor, they could wait until morning. Foregoing his desire to turn the television on, his eyes slowly shut and like the rest of London, Michael drowsed off into a deep sleep. The cold night air battering against the Number 10 windows and the faint sound of his alarm once again going off did nothing to wake him. London slept peacefully, for the last time, as the black sphere’s display ticked down to ’0:00’.
